In the Kingdom of Me,
I’ve built walls so fine,
they’re lined with velvet silence
and guarded by my spine.
Here, the moat is made of tea—
steeped in peace, steeped in “no thank you,”
and the drawbridge lowers
only for those who knock with kindness.
Court jesters try to lure me
to the Carnival of Noise,
but I’m busy polishing my crown
in the mirror of my own stillness.
They say, But won’t you be lonely?
And I say, Darling, loneliness is
the court gossip you invite in
when you mistake chaos for company.
In my royal garden,
I prune away the drama vines,
let laughter grow wild,
and plant tulips of truth in every row.
Privacy is my scepter,
boundaries my castle walls,
and peace—
ah, peace is the gold that fills my treasury.
So yes, I reign in solitude,
but this throne is warm,
my kingdom is free,
and the crown fits better
when no one else’s hands are on it–
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